“Thanks for getting it,” he said, stepping to the side so she could come into the bathroom. But she stepped the same way at the same moment, effectively blocking both of them. Then when she stepped to the other side, he stepped the same way, too. They awkwardly danced for a minute, the steam from his shower moving around them, before she finally stopped.
“What are we doing?” she laughed up at him.
He smiled down at her for a moment, then his mouth fell on hers. His hands speared into her hair, holding her at an angle, and she moaned against his lips.
It wasn't like they never kissed, but they didn't do it very often, and there was certainly never anything romantic about it. They were always primal moments, lots of tongues and teeth.
Not this time, though. His lips were closed against hers as he kissed her once, twice, and then a third time, backing her up into her door frame. She moaned again and smoothed her free hand up his back.
And then she felt his tongue, but not like she had before; there was no aggression. It was teasing, sliding along her bottom lip. Curling up between her teeth and top lip, making her gasp. Then smoothing over her own tongue. Tasting her.
Her cup hit the ground, splashing coffee all over their legs.
Why is this different? How can this feel so different?
She was struggling to shrug out of her bulky trench coat, and even when it was off, she was still wearing a large t-shirt – one of his, she was pretty sure. Still far too much clothing for her liking. When he pressed against her, he got the material damp, causing it to stick to her breasts and stomach.
His hands moved through her hair. Skated down the sides of her arms – had he ever been this gentle with his touches before? – before gripping either side of her waist. The t-shirt pulled tight briefly before his hands moved around to her back. Pressed her in even tighter against him.
“Micah,” she breathed when his mouth finally moved over her chin.
“Cassie.”
God, it was like he was trying to fuse his body to hers. He grabbed at her thigh, yanking it up to his hip, and suddenly his crotch was very neatly fitted against her own. She gasped when she could feel his bulge pressing against her center. They literally could not be any closer without getting naked.
Which we should be, immediately. Now. Always.
Micah must have had similar thoughts, because one hand dove down the back of her leggings. Squeezed her ass before pushing at the material. It didn't get very far, though, when the sound of her phone ringing interrupted them.
He was kissing down the side of her neck when it went off, and she glanced at the bed. It was sitting on the corner, the screen all lit up. Before she could make out the contact info, Micah's hand was against the side of her face, forcing her to look at him just as the call ended.
“Don't answer it,” he ordered, and before she could assure him that she wouldn't, he was kissing her again.
More things than just her t-shirt were getting damp, and Cassie was clawing at his chest and mewling when her phone went off again. They let it go once more, but when it started ringing for a third time, Cass looked over at it.
Josh Cavitt's contact info was scrolling across the screen.
“It's about work,” she panted. Micah had one hand on the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her neck to the side so he could place sucking kisses along it.
“I don't care. You're not answering it.”
“It could be important,” she argued.
“This is important.”
He ground his hips against her and she almost went cross-eyed.
“Micah ...” she whined.
“God, I love it when you say my name.”
As much as she wanted to say his name again – wanted to scream it and shout it and cry it out loud – when her phone started ringing for the fourth time, Cass ripped herself away from him. He let out a shout, almost falling as she scampered across the room.
“Hello?” she answered quickly, struggling to catch her breath.
“Cassie, this is Josh Cavitt, from the event hall. Did I call at a bad time?”
She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to calm herself down. From behind her, she could hear grumbled curse words and stomping footsteps.
“No, not at all,” she assured him. “What's up?”
“I had some big news I wanted to share with you.”
“Okay, I ...” she stuttered for a moment when she felt Micah reach around her and press his hand flat on her stomach. “I'm listening.”
“This party, you know how the mayor was wanting something huge, some sort of big surprise?” Josh asked.
“Mmm, yes.”
She squeezed her eyes shut tight as Micah's hand slid beneath the band of her leggings. She wasn't wearing any underwear, so there was nothing between her flesh and his fingertips.
“Well, I had some thoughts about what to do, so I made some calls.”
“Okay.”
Micah's other hand on her back, gently forcing her to bend over. She put her free hand on the bed, supporting her weight as she spread her legs wider. Then he was standing against her, his hard on pressing against her ass.
“I have a friend who does PR work for a huge firm. You'll never believe who we got to agree to make an appearance.”
“I'll bet.”
Cass was babbling at that point, grinding her hips back into Micah's crotch, moving in time with the fingers touching her.
But then Josh said a name so famous, it blew every other thought out of her mind. She gasped and jerked upright, dislodging Micah's hand. He snorted and pulled away from her.
“Oh my god, are you serious!?” she all but shrieked. “That's amazing, Josh! Thank you, so much! I don't know how I'll repay you.”
“I hope this isn't too forward, but I was thinking maybe dinner some time?”
Cassie didn't care about forward or not – she was thinking about how amazing this would look in her portfolio.
“Yes,” she babbled, nodding her head quickly. “Dinner, any time, whatever, just thank you so much.”
There was another snort from behind her, then she heard clothing rustling.
“No pressure, of course,” Josh went on. “I mean, don't feel obligated or anything like that.”
“No, no, of course not. I wouldn't. Just name the time and place, and I'll be there.”
“Really? That's great. I'll shoot you a text later today, sound good?”
“Sounds great. And again, Josh, thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“It was nothing, Cass. Talk to you later.”
Cass ended the call, then spun around with a squeal, eager to share her big news. But by the time she was facing the opposite direction, it was to see Micah walk out of her bedroom. She gaped, then quickly followed after him.
“Hey! Did you hear any of that?” she asked, trailing him to her breakfast bar. He nodded and grabbed his coffee cup.
“Enough of it. A dinner date with the captain, sounds thrilling,” he chuckled, sipping at the drink.
“A date? No, just dinner,” she waved the word “date” away. “But you should hear about the person he got to make an appearance at the party!”
Micah glanced down at her, then sighed.
“Cass, I'm not sure there are enough words in the English language to express just how little fucks I give about that fucking party, any fucking people going to it, or that fucking guy in particular. I gotta go, Tyler's gonna give me my keys at rehearsal. Thanks for a frustrating morning.”
She made a face at him.
“It didn't have to be frustrating – you're the one running out,” she pointed out. He'd put on his sunglasses while she was speaking, but she was still pretty sure he rolled his eyes.
“Places to go, other people to fuck, babes. Talk to you later.”
And then he was gone, waving over his shoulder before shutting her door behind him.
And it wasn't a lie.
&n
bsp; That night, Cassie woke up to the sound of a headboard banging against a wall. Only it wasn't her own. She sat up in bed, trying to figure out what exactly she was hearing. That's when the moaning started. Then the shrieking. And then his name. Over and over again, a girl screaming his name.
For the first time in weeks, she had to listen to Micah fuck some other girl.
And for the first time ever, it bothered Cassie that it wasn't her.
3
Micah Gannis wasn't prone to jealousy, and had never before really experienced it over a woman. But listening to Cass talk to that event hall douche had set something off inside his brain. He didn't own her, they weren't dating or anything, but still – when he was touching a woman, he expected to be the center of her universe at that moment.
Fuck her for dismissing me for some famous person.
It had made him angry. So he'd gone to band rehearsal at Tyler's loft and been a general dick to everyone. Drank too much tequila and treated the bassist's girlfriend like shit. Fucked her in the elevator, then brought her home, put her up against the wall he shared with Cass, and screwed her good and hard.
Of course, he did that after he ripped down most of the soundproofing materials.
So Micah was feeling pretty smug when he left his apartment the next day. It was late in the afternoon, and when he turned around and caught sight of Cassie coming out of the elevator, he was surprised. She wore a large pair of dark glasses and was carrying an enormous coffee.
“Late night?” he asked, giving her a shit eating grin. Her mouth turned down at the corners, and he could tell she was glaring at him from behind those glasses.
“Get out of my way,” she growled, trying to step past him. He moved with her, blocking her path.
“How was your dinner date? Mine was great.”
She snorted and shoved her glasses up on top of her head.
“Jealous, Micah? How childish.”
It was childish, and his smug attitude morphed into a form of embarrassment, which pissed him off.
“What's with the blood-shot eyes? Hungover? You look like shit,” he told her.
A total lie. He'd seen Cass in just about every state imaginable – first thing in the morning, sweaty from a work out, fresh out of the shower, unabashedly laughing, furious, and just about everything in between, and she never looked like shit. In fact, Micah was pretty sure he'd never met a more put together person in his life.
She had naturally blonde hair, which she wore in some sort of short, but longish, length – a long bob? Is that what that bullshit was called? – that hung past her chin, but didn't quite brush her shoulders. It was wavy, verging on curly, though he honestly had no idea if that was natural, or something she spent hours perfecting in the mornings.
She had smooth, buttery skin, a round face, and full lips – the top one had a slight upturn, giving her a sexy, pouty mouth. It featured heavily in a lot of his dreams.
But if he was pushed to say what his favorite feature was, it had to be her eyes. They were large, and dark green, with lids that were at half-mast more often than not. Bedroom eyes. “Come fuck me” eyes. When in repose, they looked bored, or condescending. But when she was looking at him, they just looked sexy.
Of course, her body couldn't be forgotten. She was probably average height for a chick, somewhere around five-foot-four, with a tone body – she ran every morning, and he knew she went to the gym a couple times a week with a friend. Her breasts were capped in light pink nipples and suited her petite frame; were the perfect size for his hands. His mouth. But her ass was more on the generous side, probably the result of a million squats. A perky bubble butt, he loved squeezing it. Biting it.
And all of that was almost always wrapped up in expensive clothing, all put together into stylish outfits. When they'd only been neighbors who hadn't liked each other, he'd figured she worked in fashion, like at a magazine or something. She was always so ... classy.
Always so different from him.
“Not hungover,” Cassie informed him. “And I don't date. I was kept up late because some dickhole decided he needed to plow a girl for five hours straight. What happened to your soundproofing?”
Ah, so she had heard. Micah smiled big again.
“Needed it – Tyler's building a recording space at his place.”
Not a total lie. The studio was being built, and it did need to be soundproofed. She didn't need to know that they already had all the materials for it, though.
“Super,” she groaned. “Look, can you start fucking your whores in your living room, or something?”
He laughed out loud at her word choice. With her prim and proper accent, curse words always sounded out of place, yet she had tendency to cuss like a truck driver. It was kind of hot – she had a rounded voice, a little on the low side, and though the accent was in fact very slight (fuck that Josh dude for noticing), it was still detectable. Added a sexy quality to her voice.
“Now who's jealous?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Cass hesitated. Only for a split second, before rolling her eyes again and telling him, “maybe in one of your better dreams, Micah. Never in reality.”
But she was too late, he'd seen the pause. Saw the corners of her mouth twitch down for a split second. Saw her gaze slide over to look at his doorway. She was jealous.
Cassandra St. John, jealous of me sleeping with another girl. Who would've thunk it. Better nip this in the bud.
“What are you doing tonight?”
He was shocked at the words coming out of his mouth, but was thankfully able to hide his shock behind a cocky grin.
“You better not be asking me on a date right after I listened to your all night sexfest,” she warned him. “I mean, the answer would be 'no' no matter what, but after everything I had to listen to, it would come with an added kick in the balls.”
“I don't think I'd even know how to date,” Micah chuckled, scratching his fingers through his hair. It was finally growing out to a decent length, he'd have to start figuring out how to style it soon. Cassie's gaze followed his hand movements, then she gave him a small smile.
“It looks good when it's longer,” she said softly.
“You think so?”
He held still when she reached up. Brushed her fingertips through the short, black strands.
“I do.”
It was a charged moment. Just like the day before, in her bathroom. He hadn't really known what was going on. One moment, they'd been awkwardly shuffling around. The next, she'd been smiling up at him, her green eyes all big and sparkly, and he'd just had to kiss her. Really kiss her – taste her and feel her and get to know her.
But then her fucking phone had rang and she'd turned her back on him like he hadn't even been there.
Moment ruined.
“Later, St. John,” Micah said, abruptly spinning and striding towards the elevator.
From behind him, Cass snorted – somewhat a signature reaction of hers – and she didn't say anything else. While he waited for the lift, he heard her door swing open, then slam shut. He laughed to himself and glanced over his shoulder.
I'll put her out of her misery tonight. She'll forget she was ever mad at me.
CASS WASN'T MAD AT Micah, not really.
No, she was mad at herself more than anything. That he'd gotten to her. For three months, they'd been able to maintain a lot of distance in their ... relationship, whatever it was. They'd led completely separate lives, barely ever spoke, just came and went.
Then they bump into each other at their jobs one time, and suddenly things were different. Why?
Because now he's a real person to you, not just some fantasy that only exists in this building.
She let that thought roll around in her brain while she tapped a pen cap against her teeth. She didn't even notice when someone sat down across from her.
“Thinking hard, or hardly thinking?”
Cass shook her head and focused. Her friend, Natalie Sali
nas, was shaking out her long, brown hair. It was drizzling outside and water droplets flew everywhere. Then she smiled and shrugged out of her jacket.
“Sorry,” Cass said. “Just ... a lot of stuff on my mind.”
“Work?” Nat asked, then quickly gave her order to a waitress.
“I guess a little, yeah,” Cass said. “This party we're doing, the guy who owns the event hall? He asked me to dinner.”
“Is he hot?”
“Very much so,” Cass nodded her head. “And successful and smart, and the first time I met him, he was wearing a tailored suit.”
“Sounds like a catch. You gonna go?”
Cassie winced.
“That's the thing. I told him I would, but now ... I don't know ...”
“What don't you know? What's not to know?” Natalie asked. “He's hot and awesome sounding – go boff his brains out.”
“That's part of the problem,” Cass grumbled, and she felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. Her friend stared at her, then bent low over their table.
“Alright, I know that look. What on earth is going on? Did you already boff him?” she asked.
“Well ... not him.”
Cass and Natalie had met right after the vivacious brunette had moved to D.C. – Nat was a paralegal at a local law firm, and sometimes moonlighted as a lounge singer. She was tall and busty and gorgeous, with a sassy attitude and razor-sharp wit. She could drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney, and it seemed like it would be impossible for the two opposites to be best friends – and yet it all somehow worked.
“Alright, enough. What's going on? Who've you fucked?” Natalie demanded. They were in a crowded diner, and several other patrons turned to look at them. Cass turned a darker shade of red and leaned over the table, as well.
“My neighbor,” she hissed. Natalie scrunched up her nose.
“Who, the guy with the dog?”
“What!?” Cass exclaimed. “Mr. Henry? Jesus, Nat, he's over seventy!”
“Well, he's your only neighbor I've ever met!” Nat snapped back.
“I'm talking about my 'next door' neighbor, the guy who has the apartment next to mine,” she growled. Natalie's eyes got big.
Boy #1: The Wannabe Rockstar (Oh, Those Boys) Page 4
